


Jeremy Heere Vs. The Homo Sapiens Agenda

by worstgirl



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz, Love Simon (2018)
Genre: F/M, Gay Jeremy Heere, M/M, also i’m not putting relationships bc spoilers, and he’s an ASSHOLE, and his name is spencer quidley, but i can’t find the tag for it, but shh, e-mailing, esther heere is the love of my life, even though if you read the book you already know who’s blue, it’s based on the book, simon vs the homo sapiens agenda au, so it’s the movie instead, super wrong for the relationships, the squip’s human, the tags look, you don’t have to know the book to read it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-11-01 12:22:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17867189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/worstgirl/pseuds/worstgirl
Summary: Jeremy Heere was content to just be in the school play, play video games with his best friends, and ignore the fact that he was blatantly gay. But when Spencer Quidley uncovered his secret pen pal, Blue, he’s forced to either bend to his blackmail or to let him tell the entire school and risk losing blue.~~~or, the simon vs. the homo sapiens agenda au that no one asked for





	1. Chapter 1

It was so goddamn casual, the way Spencer talked to him like he blackmailed people every day. Which, really, Jeremy didn’t know, he might do that on a regular basis. He wouldn’t put it past Spencer Quidley.

 

“I read your emails. You should really log out of your private account after using school technology.” 

 

Jeremy’s blood felt like someone had poured liquid nitrogen into it. “Wh-What?”

 

“I used the library computer after you. When I typed in Gmail, your account appeared, and I read a few.” The words were so easy, like Spencer was talking about the physics assignment due next period, and not the incredibly private emails Jeremy had. “What’s the point of the fake name? Wi-“

 

Jeremy sat bolt upright. “Don’t say it.” He hissed, cheeks bright red. In the darkness of backstage, he wasn’t entirely sure that Spencer could see, but he prayed he didn’t.

 

The older boy raised one perfect eyebrow— seriously, did everything about the guy have to be so… mechanical? It was like someone had taken a mold of ice and carved out a boy, then given him the charisma of said ice. Jeremy couldn’t help but stare at him with his mouth dry. And word after word kept issuing from the boy’s mouth, and he couldn’t figure out how to get his tongue to work. 

 

“I don’t have an issue with it, Heere.” Spencer said smoothly, almost suave. He managed to make everything seem cool. “It’s pretty obvious you don’t want people to know.”

 

That was an understatement. Nothing like being really, really gay in a school where the few kids who were actually out were bullied relentlessly.

 

But that wasn’t an issue— it kind of scared him, but really it was more awkward than anything else, and he sure as hell wasn’t looking forward to it. But the issue was Blue.

 

See, Blue was… well, Blue. He seemed very cautious about this, this emailing thing. Jeremy doubted that if this got out, Blue would ever forgive him. He didn’t want to ruin this for Blue, he didn’t give a damn about himself. Well, indirectly he did, but he cared more about the idea of ‘them’ than his own social status. That sucked already, so he’d just roll with what he had. 

 

The biggest thing about this was that he was having this conversation with Spencer fucking Quidley. Seriously, the kid was… strange. Cool and suave, but he had been somewhat affectionately dubbed ‘Squidley.’ Which had morphed to ‘Squid,’ which had turned into ‘Squip’ after an incident with graffitti. Of all the people to see the emails, Spencer would be his absolute last choice. 

 

“I expect that people would not actually care all that much.” Silence from Jeremy, as he stared at Spencer with a kind of dumbfounded, shocked, terrified expression on his face. “But I won’t show anyone, for a-“

 

“Y-You took a screenshot?” Jeremy spluttered, even the tips of his ears going bright red. 

 

“Well, you’re friends with Brooke-“ 

 

“You took a f-fucking  _ screenshot?”  _

 

“-Lohst and I was wondering-”

 

“No, go back to the part where you took a screenshot of my  _ private email _ . Why- Why would you do that?” 

 

“-if you’d be interested in assisting me talk to her.”

 

Then it hit him. Spencer was blackmailing him with his private emails so that he could get into the pants of one of Jeremy’s best friends. 

 

Like hell that was happening.

 

But on the other hand, Jeremy was risking being outed and losing Blue. And he couldn’t lose him. 

 

Honestly, this whole situation should be funny. Spencer Quidley, the strangest kid on the cast for the play, was blackmailing him with emails so he could get with Brooke Lohst. But Jeremy didn’t find it funny. “You’re really going to make me do this, aren’t you?”

 

The older boy’s bright, cold blue eyes stared at him with a somber expression. 

 

“Y-You’re an asshole.”

 

“I am fully aware.” 

 

Then Mr. Reyes called out, “Spencer, let’s wrap this scene up so I can go have my hot pocket!” 

 

Spencer stood in almost a fluid motion, like he was a snake. “Think about it.” If Spencer was a snake, those were his fangs. “By the way, who is Blue?”

 

Thank god, Spencer didn’t know about the tumblr post. But he wasn’t ratting Blue out. “He- He lives in California.” He lied easily, surprised with himself. But no way was he telling him the truth- that Blue was a student at their school, that he’d put a post on the Middleborough anonymous tumblr blog. 

 

Then Spencer swept away, leaving Jeremy wondering what the hell he’d just gotten himself into. 

 

~~~

 

Jeremy wasn’t in the mood to deal with his parents. Well, technically, his dad and his step-mother. When he was thirteen, his mother had walked out on them. Two years later, his dad had remarried a woman and gotten a new life, and a new daughter. But although Esther was super sweet, she was oddly intuitive. Intuitive enough to make it easy for her to tell when Jeremy was upset, which would bring up the topic of Spencer, and Blue, and he wasn’t ready to talk about that. He would never be ready to talk about that.

 

Which was why, in the hour before dinner, Jeremy was heading out the door almost as soon as he got home. As he walked, his head swirled with thoughts of Blue and Spencer Quidley and the huge box of ‘going-to-shit’ his life had become. 

 

So Spencer was into Brooke— which Jeremy really couldn’t blame him for, considering how almost every single straight guy that was a bit of nerd was into her. Still, the thought of it made his skin crawl. He tried to reassure himself: Maybe it wouldn’t suck all that much, it would just be Spencer tagging along a few times. No big deal. 

 

Except for the totally minor fact that he was blackmailing Jeremy with his sexuality and maybe-internet-not-really-but-kinda-sorta-maybe-boyfriend. But the part that got him was that he was also blackmailing Blue— poor, slightly oblivious, hilarious, awkward Blue. Jeremy wanted to smack Spencer. Or even better, himself.

 

Jeremy cuts through backyards to visit Rich. His dad must have been out, since the door to the basement was open, and Jeremy headed right in. The familiar noises of Call Of Duty filled the air, and Jeremy was a little surprised to see Christine already there, looking like she hadn’t moved since she’d gotten there. And there was a familiar fluffy mass between them. 

 

“Bieber, c’mere!” Bieber lifted his head, immediately perking up. Jeremy was a total cat person— less tongue, and barking, and just overall better. But Bieber was the one exception to his rule. 

 

As the dog came bounding towards Jeremy, nearly knocking him over, Rich paused the game, rolling his eyes. “Oh, yeah, sure, Tall-ass, say hi to the dog. I’m not here.” He said in a deadpan, but he couldn’t help the lopsided mischievous grin on his face. 

 

“What, need me to-“ Jeremy paused to giggle as Bieber licked his face. “-scratch behind your ears too?” He was trying to remember if this was normal. Was he acting like his usual self? To distract his own thoughts, he nodded at the screen. “Beat your high score?”

 

Really, Jeremy was a bit of video game snob— retro out-of-print ones with awful frame rates were his favourites. He couldn’t care less about Call Of Duty. But Rich liked it, and it gave Jeremy a way to escape himself. The violence of the guns- he could already feel Christine, Miss Gun Control, cringing in her chair- would work really well to get his mind off the Spencer issue. Or, if it didn’t, he could at least pretend that he was getting headshot after headshot on his stupid smug grin. 

 

Jeremy flopped down on the floor between his friend’s beanbags, and he buried his face in Beiber’s fur. He remembered when Rich had gotten him— a ‘service’ dog, from when he was ten and had gotten trapped in a house fire that left him pretty much blind in one eye, and lost him his mother. He’d asked Christine and Jeremy for help naming him, and Christine took one look at the fluffy mass of furn and dubbed him ‘Beiber.’

 

Christine was ripping up a paper straw wrapper from the new Chick-fil-A. Jeremy had gone a few times, until his little half-sister, Esther, mentioned that they donated money to screw over gay people, and Jeremy suddenly felt wrong to eat there. Which was a pity, he loved their Oreo milkshakes.

 

It was oddly perfect down there in Rich’s basement. No prying little sisters. No worried parents. No creepy upperclassmen blackmailing him for his sexuality. Just Christine, giggling and tossing paper into Rich’s yawning mouth. Rich choked and coughed, hitting his chest and flipping her off. 

 

“You’re the one that was yawning! I couldn’t resist.” She said with a giggle, tossing another paper wad at Jeremy’s head, but he smacked it away. 

 

“What’s got you so tired?” There was a slight worried tone in Jeremy’s voice. He’d never admit it, but he worried for Rich, a lot. His dad wasn’t the nicest, and although he’d never laid a finger on Rich, Jeremy didn’t trust him all that much.

 

Thankfully, Rich just waved off his concern. “Obviously, because I was partying hard all night.” 

 

Jeremy snorted, but held his hands up in surrender at Rich’s fake glare. “No, but really, man. The only partying you do is with calc homework.” 

 

Now Jeremy was on the receiving end of Rich’s finger, and he laughed a bit. 

 

The game starts up again, with Jeremy curled up with his chest on Beiber, Christine chucking paper wads at the soldiers on the screen. “So, I keep having these weird dreams.” She commented, in that out-of-the-blue, train of thought way Christine had. 

 

“Ew, TMI, Chris.” Jeremy commented, which got Christine to stick her tongue out at him, going a little pink. 

 

“We all know you’re the hyper-sexual one, Heere.” Rich teased, taking a hand off his controller to noogie Jeremy. 

 

Jeremy ducked away, before glancing up at Christine. “No, but really.”

 

“So I had a dream I was putting on contacts. Like those ones I had to wear when I cosplayed, yknow, the blue ones? Except I couldn’t find out which lens went in which eye.” 

 

There was momentary silence. “And?” Rich finally prompted. 

 

“And nothing. I woke up and I could see fine.”

 

“Wow, wonder what that’s like-“ Rich muttered, and Christine winced. She hadn’t meant to bring it up. 

 

“I mean, really. Be thankful for your 20-20, Chris.” Jeremy broke the awkward silence. He himself had shitty vision, but no one would know unless he told them. He’d stopped wearing his glasses-

 

“Why’d you stop wearing your glasses, anyways? Didn’t you say that they made you look like Harry Potter, Jer?” Rich teased, jumping at the chance to make fun of Jeremy and also get the attention off himself. 

 

Jeremy felt his face get hot. “That was one time!” He protested, smacking Rich’s knee, making the other boy laugh. 

 

“But really, I think the dream’s trying to tell me something! Like, if I had to put in contacts, is there something I’m not seeing? Like what are my blind spots?”

 

“Your playlists?” Rich teased. Christine’s music taste was limited to trashy 20’s pop (no offense to Avril, but one could only listen to Sk8r Boi for so many car trips before it got tiring) and musical soundtracks. 

 

There was something in the way Christine teased Rich that was totally different from her teasing anyone else. Jeremy was pretty sure that Christine liked Rich— odd, because he didn’t seem like her type whatsoever, but there was the jealousy of Brooke, and the softer sort of smile that she sent in his direction.

 

But then there was Rich. Swapping seats with Jake Dillinger so he could sit next to Brooke. And the infamous lovesick Goranski eyes, the ones that were directed at Madeline Burgeoise all during freshman year. Now directed at a certain blond, bubbly cheerleader. 

 

That was one way being Spencer’s wingman would actually help. If him and Brooke got together- God help Brooke- then Rich would have to move on from her, and maybe Christine would have a chance. He hoped. So really, this was barely about Jeremy at all. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the first emails

FROM:  weak.and.idle.apocalypse@gmail.com

TO:  bluegreen118@gmail.com

DATE: Oct 17 at 12:06 AM

SUBJECT: Re: when you knew

 

Wow, your story is a lot sexier than mine, Blue. For being from middle school. Middle school is shit, and it’s pretty much burned into your memory forever even when it’s over. But I’m curious, have you seen him since then? 

 

As for me, I don’t know exactly when I figured out. TMI, but it may have been because of this dream I had about Daniel Radcliffe. (Don’t judge, okay, it was when he was younger and pre-crackhead alcoholic photo. Or at least before I’d seen it.) 

 

But I think the nail in the coffin was eighth grade. I had this girlfriend, but one of those ‘dating’ things where you just say you’re boyfriend and girlfriend but never actually do anything about it. I think we might have held hands a few times. Scandalous, I know. But we went to the eighth grade dance together. Sorry, I wasn’t a gentleman, I ditched her at the door and spent all my time with my friends loitering by the snack table and stealing all the Doritos. But one of my girlfriend’s friends came up to me and said that she was waiting for me behind the school. I think I was supposed to make out with her, or at least kiss her.

 

Instead of going to make out with her, I had my proudest moment: I hid in the bathroom. For the entire evening. And I may have cried. And then I never spoke to the girl again. I’m pretty sure I ruined her Valentine’s day. (Did I mention it was Valentine’s Day? Yeah, not my proudest moment. I’m obviously the classiest human alive. Ew, never using that phrase again.)

 

Anyways, I’m pretty sure this is literally the longest email I’ve ever written. Or the longest thing. You might be the only person to get more than like, two paragraphs from me. Kinda chill, right?

 

I’m going to stop rambling so you don’t have an entire book in your inbox. Besides, it’s been kind of a weird day.

 

— Winnie

 

FROM:  bluegreen118@gmail.com

TO:  weak.and.idle.apocalypse@gmail.com

DATE: Oct 17 at 8:46 PM

SUBJECT: Re: when you knew

  
  


i’m the only person? i’m flattered, winnie. funny, i don’t really email either. and i don’t think i’ve talked about this stuff with anyone but you. 

 

but it would be kinda sad if your actual proudest moment in your life happened in middle school. god, i hated middle school. it was a literal fuckfest. remember the way youd be talking about something you really liked but as soon as you stopped talking they’d do that ‘um, okaaaay’ thing so youd know whatever you cared about was like, worthless or whatever? worst thing was that i did it to other people. it makes me feel nauseous just remembering that. (wow, look at me, using big words.)

 

so basically, it’s cool man. we were all little dicks then. to answer your question, i’ve seen him a few times since the wedding. at family functions and whatever. and it’s not all that awkward, because i never like told him ‘hey you were the reason i realized i like guys’ or anything. so yeah, he probably thinks of me as his cousin’s weird little step-nephew. 

 

but i can’t relate to the never-having-girlfriends thing. i mean, i had a lot of girlfriends. pretty much because i wasn’t sure i was actually, you know, gay. (which i know is making you do the ‘okaaaaay’ thing right now but seriously.) but basically i just found girls that liked me, and we started dating, and then we broke up again. simple as that. it never hurt, which for a while i thought made me weird or gross of something.

 

— blue

 

FROM:  weak.and.idle.apocalypse@gmail.com

TO:  bluegreen118@gmail.com

DATE: Oct 18 at 11:15 PM

SUBJECT: The obligatory … 

 

Okaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyy.

(Eyebrows, weird butthole mouth, the whole shebang.)

(Also, nice on the big word, but it would actually be nauseated. Sorry, my one friend’s a total grammar nerd.)

 

— Winnie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aight so i’m going to update this on wednesdays and saturdays because i have six chapters already written and it’s going a lot faster than i thought so like  
> enjoy this
> 
> also please comment i adore them  
> speculations about who blue is is totally cool but like  
> eye emoji  
> be cool abt it
> 
> stay safe and stay wonderful loves!!
> 
> ~percy


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> explanation of blue’s existence, esther and jeremy’s step-mom appear, and jeremy’s dad doesn’t mean to be homophobic

The worst thing about the whole Spencer issue was that Jeremy couldn’t talk about it with anyone. Not even Blue. Which was weird, since he didn’t think that he had kept any secrets from him. Sure, they kept the big things to themselves. Names, names of friends, what teachers they had. But Jeremy didn’t think of those things as secrets.

 

Oddly, he didn’t think of Blue as an actual flesh-and-blood classmate. In a way, him and his lack of capitalization lived in Jeremy’s MacBook Pro. If he had known who Blue was, he wouldn’t have told him anything. Which was odd. 

 

Besides, Jeremy was the one that found him. Sure, Blue had put up the post on the Middleborough tumblr page— a place where you were supposed to post anonymous shit, confessions and random thoughts, and people could comment and not judge you. It just basically turned into a shitpost blog of gossip and angsty poetry. But it was oddly addictive. 

 

That was where Jeremy had found Blue’s post. It was pretty poorly written, but it was oddly poetic. About loneliness, and feeling vulnerable and exposed and hidden all at once. About feeling that way about the fact that he was gay. Just a few lines of poorly written text, and Jeremy found out he had to know him. Finally, he responded with his secret Gmail account. 

 

And a week or so later, after much agonizing and more than one anxiety attack, the first email appeared. And they started talking about nothing and everything. Blue was oddly careful about the emails. Which Jeremy knew that meant if Blue figured out that Spencer had screenshots of their emails, he’d totally flip out and stop emailing him. Which he couldn’t let happen. Not when Blue made him feel almost special, interesting. He wasn’t cool, at all, but he was to Blue. 

 

Which was why Jeremy had been steadily avoiding Spencer like the black plague. He kept seeing him everywhere, trying to catch his eye, but again, Jeremy disappeared, and felt cowardly. He’d already decided to help him, or whatever this was called. Even thinking about it made Jeremy want to vomit. 

 

He was distracted all throughout dinner. His dad was making his usual corny jokes, in a good mood. It was still a little weird to see him like this, after so many years of him being in a state of depression over his mom leaving. And Jeremy really couldn’t blame him anymore— they’d both been hit hard by that. But now here they were, with their new little family, and they were getting excited over watching the  _ Bachelorette.  _ Which was just as ridiculous as it sounded. 

 

“So, how are Christian and Rachel?” His dad said, mouth full of food. His wife gave him a small glance over her own plate, as if scolding him for talking with his mouth full. That was the peak of his humor. That and making jokes about being in the army. Which was only funny because as far as Jeremy knew, his dad had never been in the army. Ever. 

 

“They’re great, Dad.” Jeremy said, rolling his eyes a bit. But it wasn’t mean. It was just… his dad. 

 

“LOL, Dad.” Esther said, shooting Jeremy a small grin over her peas. She’d gotten in the habit of saying text abbreviations out loud, probably to mess with their dad, who was still totally clueless about everything that had to do with texting. “Oh, Miah, did you see Rich? He was playing guitar outside the atrium today.”

 

Esther was the only person on the planet Jeremy let call him Miah. He didn’t even trust Rich or Christine with that. Not after his mother. 

 

Speaking of, his step-mother piped up. “Sounds like Rich is trying to get a girlfriend.” Laura was nice, really, and she tried. He could see why his dad had fallen for her— she was like his mom, without the obvious drawbacks of being a total bitch.

 

But that sentence made Jeremy’s stomach do an odd little flip-flop.  _ Funny, because I’m trying to prevent Rich from dating the girl he likes, because I’m being blackmailed by Spencer Quidley with emails that would expose my secret gay pen pal. Oh, did I mention I’m also gay? _

 

Yeah, no. 

 

Maybe it would be easier if he went to school anywhere else, but Middleborough wasn’t exactly the most progressive school. One or two guys were out, but people gave them crap constantly. Nothing violent, but there were a few slurs thrown around. And there were a few lesbian girls, and a handful of bisexual ones, but it was a bit easier for lesbians. According to the tumblr, a lot of guys found it hot. Which was also gross. But it did happen in reverse— part of Jeremy’s sexual awakening was Christine introducing him to slash fanfiction. 

 

It was a weird summer, and one where Jeremy taught himself how to do laundry. Certain socks are not meant to be washed by your father. 

 

After dinner, Esther flopped down on the couch, pulling up the channel. It was odd— her and Jeremy weren’t even related, but they managed to have extremely similar dark curly brown hair and blue eyes. Jeremy guessed his dad had a type. Which was a little weird, but still. It avoided the awkwardness of people asking him, ‘Esther is your  _ sister? _ ’ In that awed way, and Jeremy would have to awkwardly explain that they were half-siblings, which would bring up the topic of his mother, which was bad enough as it was. 

 

“Dad- are you holding a rose?” Jeremy was mortified. His dad got way into this, and he was glad he could die of embarrassment in the comfort of his own home, instead of with anyone else. For a second, he imagined Blue, sitting next to him and laughing, talking about the heteronormative ideals of the  _ Bachelorette.  _

 

His step-mom came in to break him from his train of thought, brandishing a bowl of popcorn. “So, Michael D. claimed to use the fantasy suite for talking.” Esther said, with air quotes. “Do we believe that?” 

 

For a fifteen year old, Esther got away with way more inappropriate jokes than Jeremy ever had. 

 

“Not for a minute, kiddo.” His dad said, ruffling Esther’s hair, which got her to give him a small glare, reminiscent of her mother. 

 

“They always say that.” His step-mom said, sitting next to her husband on the couch and taking the dramatically offered rose. Esther and Jeremy exchanged glances, and then Jeremy noticed something. 

 

“Whoa, Es, when did you do that?” He asked, gesturing to the piercings on her ear— not just one or two, but five, all the way around. 

 

“Um, last weekend?” She mumbled, looking almost embarrassed. “I just wanted to, IDK.” Back to the text speak again, but it sounded nervous. Esther had always hated the attention on her. “Can we just talk about the fantasy suite now?”

 

Jeremy obliged, dropping it. “I mean, it’s the fantasy suite. They totally did it.” He said with a shrug. “Fantasy definitely doesn’t involve talking.” He pointed out. 

 

“But it also doesn’t necessarily mean intercourse-“

 

“MOM. Jesus Christ.” 

 

Jeremy jerked out of his train of thought, just as Esther asked, “What about Daniel F.?” And she brushed a curl behind her ear, and Jeremy’s eyes were drawn to the piercings. How had he not noticed those before? He knew he was preoccupied, but he didn’t think he was that oblivious.

 

“Are you kidding me? The gay one?” Jeremy’s blood ran cold, and he could only sit there. He was never sure if his dad actually meant it or not. 

 

“Daniel’s not gay!” Esther protested. 

 

“Kid, he’s basically a one man Pride Parade. An eternal flame.” 

 

“Dad, stop.” Esther protested. Jeremy had no clue if his dad actually was homophobic, or just thought that those kind of jokes were funny, or if he liked to push Esther’s buttons. And then his dad started singing Eternal Flame by the Bangles.

 

Christine had said something about this— not this exact scenario, but something similar. She said she’d rather have people make fun of her weight to her face than have to sit there while someone made fun of some other girl’s weight. ‘Nothing’s worse than being insulted by proxy’ she had said. And Jeremy kind of agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i adore esther with all my heart and soul okay 
> 
> please leave a comment! they boost my serotonin levels
> 
> please I constantly crave validation
> 
> stay safe, and stay wonderful, loves!
> 
> ~percy


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> spencer is a dick

Another big issue was the lunch table. Spencer caught Jeremy’s arm, and he felt a static shock run down his spine. It was just one of Spencer’s quirks— he seemed to always be carrying around a bit of static electricity. 

 

“What do you want?” Jeremy said, with more venom than he’d thought he could muster, looking up at the taller boy. 

 

But Spencer was looking at his lunch table. “Room for one more?”

 

There was no way Jeremy was bringing Squip boy to his lunch table. “Um. Not r-really.” He stammered, his confidence waning. “I m-mean- we’ve got eight people already, you know?” 

 

There was an odd beat of silence as Spencer seemed to process this. He hadn’t let go of Jeremy’s arm, and it was long enough to be uncomfortable. “I didn’t realize that the seats were assigned.”

 

And Jeremy was totally speechless. It was the laws of the universe— you didn’t just swap lunch tables halfway through October. Besides, the lunch table they had was weird, but it worked. Jeremy, Christine and Rich had gotten the fortune of being put in a lunch period together. Christine’s friend Jenna, who occasionally talked about musicals and/or the Tumblr page with them. Then there was the other guys, part of the soccer team with Rich: Jake Dillinger, and Dustin Kropp. And then there was Brooke, who’d moved from DC at the beginning of the school year, who’d become part of their little band. With Brooke, they had seven people at a six person table. 

 

“I just figured we were on the same page with the Brooke situation, but I suppose…” And then he had the actual audacity to raise his eyebrows at Jeremy. Literally, raise his eyebrows. What was it with that?

 

“L-Look, I want to help you.” Jeremy stammered, finally shaking his hand off. 

 

“Whatever you say, Heere.”

 

“I just-“ Jeremy scrambled for a lie. ‘ _ Absolutely hate your guts and I’m stalling so I don’t have to actually do anything?’  _ “I n-need to talk to her, okay? But- you’ve gotta let me handle it.” And he turned on his heel and walked away. He could feel Spencer’s glare on him all the way to the table.

 

~~~

 

Except he hadn’t handled it. He hadn’t mentioned Spencer to Brooke at all, and he hadn’t invited him to anything, and he hadn’t done anything like lock them in closets together or dangle mistletoe above them. Honestly, what did the guy want him to do? He just wanted to avoid the issue as much as possible. 

 

Jeremy was pretty sure he’d been avoiding the guy so much that he was almost invisible. Maybe if he just sidled up to Rich and Christine more and more then Spencer would leave him alone.

 

Tuesday morning, Jeremy pulled into the school parking lot, grip tight on his dad’s hand-me-down minivan. Esther grabbed her bag, going to jump out, before looking back at her older brother. 

 

“You coming?”

 

Jeremy glanced over at her. “Yeah. In a minute.”

 

There was silence for a bit. “Okay. Are you alright?”

 

“Wh-What? Yeah, I’m- I’m fine.”

 

She didn’t look convinced. 

 

“Es. I’m  _ fine _ .” 

 

“Okay.” She bit her lip, and Jeremy had to remind himself again that they weren’t blood siblings. Once she shut the door, his mind was stuck on that— Esther was oddly observant. He hadn’t really noticed that before now. But talking to her about a lot of things was just awkward. 

 

Jeremy decided to just play around on his phone, scrolling through his empty social media and refreshing his email again and again in the hopes of another message from Blue. No such luck. 

 

A knock on his window made Jeremy yelp in surprise, almost dropping his phone. He had been expecting Spencer to pop out of thin air like some creepy genie in a bottle. But no, it was only Rich. 

 

Rich climbed in without even asking. “What’re you up to?”

 

_ Avoiding Spencer.  _ “Watching videos.”

 

“Amazing- so, I’ve got this song in my head-“

 

“We are  _ not  _ listening to blink-52.”

 

“I’m going to just pretend you didn’t just mix blink-182 and the B-52’s in the same sentence.” 

 

Jeremy loved to fuck with Rich, and he did the same. 

 

Instead, they decided to shift closer to each other, splitting a pair of earbuds and watching an episode of She-Ra. They’d both agreed never to tell Christine that they actually liked it.

 

But the thing was, it wasn’t lonely with Rich, even when they were both silent. It just felt content. Easy. Even if he knew the other boy could tell something was up with him. 

 

Jeremy’s episode of Spencer-free bliss only lasted until Thursday afternoon at rehearsal. He’d managed to avoid him up until then, but getting to rehearsal early wasn’t his best choice. Jeremy sat on the ground outside the school, thankful it hadn’t rained. He leaned against the wall, head down at his phone, searching for the soundtrack to Natasha, Pierre, and the Great Comet of 1812– both Christine and Brooke were obsessed, which was a good sign.

 

But then a pair of legs appeared in front of him, wearing a pair of jeans so pristine that Jeremy was sure they were ironed. (Could you even iron jeans? Jeremy had no idea.) They were, sadly, attached to Spencer. 

 

He said something, and Jeremy tugged out his earbuds, glaring up at him. From this angle, Spencer was even taller than he usually was. Which was saying a lot, because as it was, the guy had at least five inches on Jeremy. 

 

“What’s your deal, Heere?” He asked, sounding thoroughly pissed off. 

 

“My- My deal?” Jeremy stammered out, trying to play dumb as he stood up. He didn’t want to be face to face with Squip boy’s crotch, at all. 

 

“God, don’t stutter, it’s the most pathetic thing you do. And that’s saying something.” Spencer rolled his eyes. “I think you’re avoiding me.” 

 

Jeremy blinked at him. Well, no shit he was avoiding him. “Well- Well, I’m not.” He stepped away, trying to walk back to the auditorium, but Spencer caught up to him. Goddamn him and his oddly long legs. Everything on him was long, but he managed to pull it off and not look gangly and awkward, like Jeremy did. 

 

“Honestly, just stop worrying about the emails. I’m not intending on showing them to anyone.” He said, sounding almost bored by it. 

 

Yeah, Jeremy was going to take that with about a million fucking grains of salt. Because he sure as hell didn’t say he was going to delete the screenshots. “I said I was going to talk to her, okay?” His hand was on the aud door, and he could push through and get away at any moment. But then Spencer smacked him with another thing that made his stomach turn.

 

“Would it be easier if we exchanged phone numbers?” They were close enough that Jeremy could smell the mint on his breath— he was convinced the guy lived on wintergreen tic-tacs.

 

Jesus fucking Christ. 

 

“Do I have a choice?” Jeremy said, his voice cold. 

 

Spencer’s fingers swiped his phone open dexterously, and Jeremy could just see that he was swiping through a camera roll of— shit, those were his emails. All of them, from the very beginning. All his secrets, in Spencer Quidley’s hands. Jeremy’s heart pounded. 

 

“Fine, just- hand it over.” Maybe he could delete the pictures, but the fucker probably had backups on every device he owned. 

 

Jeremy hated how his hands shook as he punched in the number, almost shoving the phone back at the older boy. 

 

“Wonderful. I’ll call you, so you have mine.” Spencer gave that cold little smile that made Jeremy want to smack him. 

 

“Y-Yeah. Sure.” 

 

Spencer fucking Quidley. Jeremy was definitely putting him in his contacts as ‘Evil Tic-Tac.’

 

He turned around, pushing into the auditorium. Almost immediately, Brooke tackled him in a hug. “Jeremy!” She said, in the most dramatic French accent she could, like she was an aristocrat in one of those shitty romance movies. “Never leave me again.” She poked his cheeks, and Jeremy couldn’t help but grin, even as he saw Spencer glaring at him from over Brooke’s head. 

 

“What’d I miss?” Jeremy asked, in a poor attempt to imitate Daveed Diggs, which made Brooke giggle. 

 

“Nothing. But-“ She cast a glance over her shoulder. “-I think Christine’s about ready to murder Chloe.”

 

Ah, Chloe Valentine. Honestly, Jeremy had no clue how she got into this show. She was the worst kind of perfect— like, if perfection was evil. Jeremy was kind of convinced that Reyes just let her in because of lack of actors. Because while she was stunningly hot, she also happened to be the worst actress on the face of the planet. 

 

“Alright, children.” Reyes said, as if he wasn’t talking to a bunch of high schoolers. “I hope you actually studied this weekend, because we’re off book for Act I today. Michael. You’re on book. Tell them their lines when they call for them.”

 

And then Reyes left, and Michael was left in charge. It wasn’t uncommon.

 

Michael was the stage manager for this show. He was a junior, like Jeremy, and he had a double spaced copy of the script in a huge blue binder that was absolutely covered in blue ink, with stage directions and blocking and sound cues. He always wore this red hoodie covered in patches for bands Jeremy had never heard of, but if he’d been more outgoing, he would have asked. 

 

But Michael had this sort of soft dark hair that Jeremy liked, and sometimes, he found himself wondering what it felt like to run his hands through it. And he had dark eyes, behind dark blue glasses. Jeremy had heard rumors about him being gay, since he had two moms, which was basically the only out LGBT couple he’d heard of. And Jeremy almost hoped he was gay. He was really, really cute.

 

The rehearsal went oddly well, and Jeremy found himself slipping into that usual rhythm he always did during shows— it was one of the only places he felt genuinely at ease. It went so well, with all the lights except the one above the stage out, that Jeremy felt a little giggle drunk— in that moment, he fell a bit in love with everyone. Even Chloe.

 

Even Spencer. Sure, he was a total asshole, but he was still good, and he was part of the theater kid machine. Jeremy wasn’t going to compose any arias in his praises, and he had no clue how to talk him up to Brooke, but maybe he’d think of something. 

 

Rehearsal ended, and he found himself with Brooke, sitting on the edge of the stage. Well, Brooke was stretched out next to him, her long blonde hair dangling over the edge. He had a while until her mother got there, and he could drive home whenever he wanted. 

 

Brooke yawned, and Jeremy looked down at her. She had her eyes closed. Brooke was the kind of person who looked like she dressed while wearing a blindfold and picked random pieces out of her closet, but she managed to pull it off. She wore an orange tanktop under a crocheted, bright blue top that Jeremy was convinced she’d made herself, and a mustard yellow cardigan draped around the crooks of her elbows. But she had the sort of mouth that always had the hint of a smile, and she smelled like French toast. If Jeremy was straight, he’d get the whole Brooke thing. 

 

Finally, he glanced up, noticing Spencer’s eyes on him from across the aud. He seemed to be making a point to pack up his bag slowly, deliberately so. As if he was waiting for something.

 

“Hey- Spence.” Jeremy felt his glare at the nickname, and felt a little twinge of satisfaction. “You going to Jake’s party tomorrow?”

 

There was a bit of silence. 

 

“A party?”

 

“Yeah, a Halloween party. You should come. I’ll send you the adress.” What the actual fuck was he saying? But he looked down at Brooke, who’s eyes were open, and she was looking at him in slight confusion. 

 

“Yes, maybe I will.” Spencer said, before zipping his bag shut and slinging it easily over his shoulder before he made his way for the door. Once it shut behind him, Brooke turned her head to Jeremy, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Didn’t know you were friends with Spencer.” 

 

Which was the most hilarious fucking statement in the universe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave comments please sksks
> 
> okay also i was rushed while posting this!! just a note: I’ll try getting the chapters up in the next week, but it’s tech week for my show so it may be a little late.
> 
> stay safe, and stay wonderful, loves!
> 
> ~ percy


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> more emails between winnie and blue!!

FROM:  weak.and.idle.apocalypse@gmail.com

TO:  bluegreen118@gmail.com

DATE: Oct 30 at 9:56 PM

SUBJECT: Re: hollow wieners

 

Blue,

 

I never really tried to dress scary. My only goal on Halloween was to make my dad laugh, so I was kind of a one trick pony. The boy-in-a-dress thing never really got old. Until I was in fourth grade and overheard my mom talking about how I was going to turn out messed up in the head if I let it continue. Yeah, that poor flapper dress is probably still in my closet. Like me. Ha. 

 

Anyways, now, I’m pretty sure I aim for a mix of simple and badass. I can’t believe you’re not going out or anything. Don’t you realize that you could dress up as a little kid and still get candy? They can’t deny you if you’re in costume.

 

— Winnie

 

FROM:  bluegree118@gmail.com

TO:  weak.and.idle.apocalypse@gmail.com

DATE: Oct 31 at 8:11 AM

SUBJECT: Re: hollow wieners

 

Winnie,

 

sorry lol. as much as i would adore to dress up and go get candy, i’m pretty sure that they’d object to a 17 year old mooching their reese’s cups off of them. (is this where you tell me mooching isn’t a word? kidding, kidding.)

 

actually, i was also a bit of a one trick pony when i was a kid. i was always a superhero. i guess i kind of liked the idea of being someone else for a while, with this whole secret identity. maybe i still do. maybe that’s the point of these emails. 

 

anyways, no, i’m not going trick-or-treating. for moral reasons, of course, i can’t just steal candy from all the little kids. 

 

your dad sounds cool— but i kind of want to punch your mother. how’d you convince them to buy you dresses? and i bet your flapper dress was awesome. (i’d love to see you in it— kidding, i’m pretty sure you would have grown since you were in fourth grade lmao. tho that might make it even better. ;) jkjk.) but did your parents try to ruin your costumes by making them weather appropriate? i remember throwing a tantrum one year bc GREEN LANTERN DOES NOT WEAR A TURTLENECK. i now know that he kinda does, so that’s irrelephant. (irrelevant? hell if i know.)

 

anyways, i hope you enjoy your day off from being winnie. and that everyone likes your ninja costume. (that’s gotta be it, right?)

 

—blue

 

FROM:  weak.and.idle.apocalypse@gmail.com

TO:  bluegreen118@gmail.com

DATE: Oct 31 at 8:25 AM

SUBJECT: Re: hollow wieners

 

A ninja? Suck a good guess, but nope.

 

—Winnie

 

FROM:  weak.and.idle.apocalypse@gmail.com

TO:  bluegreen118@gmail.com

DATE: Oct 31 at 8:26 AM

SUBJECT: Re: hollow wieners

 

Aah fuck, always be aware of autocorrect. DICK a good guess.

 

FROM:  weak.and.idle.apocalypse@gmail.com

TO:  bluegreen118@gmail.com

DATE: Oct 31 at 8:28 AM

SUBJECT: Re: hollow wieners

 

FUCK!!

SUCH a good guess. SUCH. Jesus fuck, this is why I never write to you from my phone. Anyways, going to go actually die of embarrassment now.

—W

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alrighty so it’s my show this weekend so i’ll probably miss the next chapter, but you get this one early!! have fun with it
> 
> please comment your speculations and ideas for the next few chapters, or just keyboard smash. seriously i just constantly crave validation.
> 
> stay safe, and stay wonderful, loves!
> 
> ~percy


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the halloween party is significantly better than the canon one

Halloween on a Friday was the best thing in the universe. All day in school, it seemed to be a kind of perfect etherealness, like everyone was friendlier and work was less boring and teachers were funnier. Esther had convinced Jeremy to stitch felt cat ears to one of his old hoodies, and an old tail she’d found from one of his old costumes was pinned to the back of his jeans. Rich busted out laughing at him at lunch, and Jeremy had to hide his bright red face in his hood as he brought up his furry phase— he’d said that cat ears would be cool  _ one time _ , in seventh grade, and Rich had never let him live it down. Even Jake was grinning behind his Monster energy drink. But it wasn’t mean, he knew, and all in all it wasn’t a too heinous day. 

 

Brooke hitched a ride with him, and they planned to walk over to Rich’s later so Christine could pick them all up. Christine was the only one of them that owned an actual car that could drive more than one person, even if it would be a little cramped in her yellow punchbug. Jeremy’s dad wasn’t strict about a lot of things, but that one thing was the fact that he couldn’t drive more than one other person besides Esther. 

 

Brooke collapsed onto the couch, her headband slipping off of her head. Most people did the school version of Halloween costumes, with masks and animal ears and shit. Brooke, instead, went all out and wore a full on Cleopatra costume. She said that she brought a different, less school appropriate costume for tonight. “So, where is this thing?”

 

“Uh, Jake’s house? Somewhere off one of the side streets, I think? I dunno, Rich knows where he lives.” 

 

“Ah. So it’s going to be mostly soccer kids?”

 

Jeremy snorted. “Probably. I dunno.” 

 

Well, he had gotten a message from Evil Tic-Tac confirming he’d be there, but he really didn’t feel like bringing it up. 

 

“Well, it’ll be fun.” Brooke shrugged, hauling herself up from the couch. She didn’t seem to care that her dress had hitched almost all the way up. She did have tights on, but really— it was odd how she seemed to know she didn’t have to be self-conscious around Jeremy. Sure, everyone thought he was straight, so maybe that was just how she was. 

 

“So, are you hungry?” And he realized he was supposed to offer her something, and Jeremy almost smacked himself. 

 

They ended up making grilled cheese (that Jeremy almost burned, but Brooke rescued at the last minute so they were perfectly golden brown) and brought it in to eat on the couch. Esther was tucked into a corner of the couch, her hair tied back in a ponytail with one of those black and orange scrunchies Jeremy had never seen before. He caught her glancing up from her book- Macbeth, he noticed- and looking at their sandwiches. She barely ever went out. Laura had been trying to get her to act more assertively, which is why Jeremy hadn’t offered to make her a sandwich, but she really should have asked. 

 

After a while, she slipped off and returned with her own sandwich, going back to reading. Both of them did better in school with something in the background, either music or the TV. But they both got pretty good grades anyways. 

 

“Hey, we should get changed, right?” Brooke asked, looking over at Jeremy. 

 

“We don’t have to be at Rich’s ‘til eight.” 

 

“C’mon, don’t you want to dress up for the trick-or-treaters? I always hated it when people weren’t in costume.”

 

“Uh, if you say so. But seriously, the kids here only care about the candy. They don’t care where it comes from.”

 

Brooke’s eyebrows furrowed. “That’s- a little concerning.”

 

Jeremy laughed a bit. “Yeah, it is.” 

 

“Okay, well, snatching your bathroom. It’s time for the-“ She wiggled her fingers at him, in a kind of magic-witchy way. “-transformation.” 

 

“Sounds great, I’ll do my transforming in here.” 

 

“Ew, Miah.” Esther muttered, not looking up from her book. 

 

“It’s a dementor robe over my clothes, I think you’ll survive.”

 

“What’s a dementor?”

 

Really. She read Shakespeare but not J.K. Rowling. “Es, you’re disowned.”

 

She finally looked up, raising an eyebrow. “You can’t disown me, you’re not my parent. And that means it’s some Harry Potter thing, isn’t it?”

 

~~~

 

There was enough bass in the music when they walked in for Jeremy to feel it in his chest. Jake fist-bumped Rich almost as soon as they walked in, with an exclamation of ‘dude!’ that reminded Jeremy a little of blue. He pushed that away. Blue wasn’t here, it didn’t matter. 

 

But it did. Jeremy wasn’t used to parties. Well, he was, but not the kind with teenagers offering you a beer and grinding in the living room. The kind of parties with junk food and soda in someone’s basement was more his speed. Maybe video games, too. 

 

Jake was taking drink orders, like some odd, leather clad bartender. He seemed to be dressed in some kind of biker get-up that Jeremy didn’t understand. “Heere, a beer?” Then he gave a small laugh that oddly made Jeremy’s heart do an odd thumping in his chest. He guessed the other boy laughed because it rhymed, but still. 

 

“I- uh- sure.” He squeaked, and he hated how high pitched his voice got. Jake disappeared, and Jeremy idly thought that Laura would call that good hosting. Not that he’d tell her, after all, but still. 

 

He found himself leaning against the wall, dementor hood pulled over his face as if to hide himself in it. Rich had disappeared somewhere, probably going off to steal a guitar from Jake’s den or something, leaving Jeremy alone with Christine and Brooke. It was an odd sort of tension— they were both too sweet and polite for their own good, and Jeremy just prayed that they’d both stay sweet even after Brooke had drank. 

 

“Is that Katniss making out with Yoda?” Christine commented, making Brooke look over to the couch she indicated. 

 

“Who making out with who?”

 

There was a moment where Christine looked at her like she was disappointed in her. “...never mind.”

 

Brooke didn’t seem to notice the disappointment in Christine’s voice. 

 

“Where’s Rich?” She finally asked, and Christine immediately freezes. Only someone who’d known her as long as Jeremy did would notice the characteristics of Christine’s discomfort. Stiffen, face pale, for a few seconds until she decided to act cool and relaxed visibly. It was so slight it was almost imperceptible.

 

“Uh, probably feeling up a guitar somewhere.” Jeremy blurted out awkwardly.

 

Luckily, Brooke only laughed, which was only fueled by Christine’s muttered, “Most awkward way to get a splinter.” For some reason, Christine seemed pleased with herself. As if she didn’t scream into Jeremy’s pillow a million times because ‘Oh Brooke is  _ so  _ perfect! She’s a cheerleader and pretty!’ 

 

Jake came over, the drinks balanced on a tray. An actual, genuine tray. Jeremy was impressed. 

 

“Alright, screwdrivers for the ladies-“ He handed a drink to both Christine and Brooke, who looked at the orange liquid with a wrinkled nose. 

 

“I- thanks.” Christine mumbled, setting the alcohol on the table. 

 

“And a beer for— whatever you’re supposed to be.”

 

For some reason, Jake not knowing who he was felt so much worse than Esther not knowing. He shoved away the twinge in his gut, taking the drink. “I’m a dementor.” 

 

“A what?”

 

“From- Harry Potter, yknow?” He stammered out, but Jake didn’t seem angry.

 

“And who are you supposed to be?” He turned to Christine, who glanced at Jeremy.

 

“I’m the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man.” She said, with a completely deadpan face, but she gave in when she saw Jake’s eyebrow furrow in confusion. “Katherine, from Newsies.” 

 

“Uh…?”

 

“It’s a musical.” She said. 

 

“Oh. Gotcha.” Jake gave her finger guns, before there was a crash of noise. A group of freshmen girls were sitting, obviously drunk, on the piano bench and they’d evidently crashed into the keys. Jake rushed off to scold them, and somehow, it was kind of adorable that he was worried about the piano.

 

Jeremy wished he was back at home, watching shitty Netflix shows and eating candy with Esther. But it wasn’t exactly that he was having a bad time, but his mind was racing. He took a sip of beer to quiet his thoughts and almost choked. Dear god, he knew it wasn’t going to taste like ice cream, but damn. He had a hard time to believe that people snuck into bars to drink this stuff. Who’d pay for a fake ID for this shit? It kinda made Jeremy wonder the hype about sex.

 

But it didn’t taste as bad after the first few sips, and his head was starting to feel like it was filled with cotton, but in a good way. Rich had returned with a guitar and was picking the strings in some older song— Pink Floyd, maybe. Or Pink Panther? Jeremy didn’t pay attention. Whatever it was made Jeremy think of Michael Mell.

 

That was the thing— something about the other boy made him think that Michael was Blue. The way he always used blue pen. His voice reminded Jeremy of an ocean, almost, like blue-green waves, and there was that idea that he seemed to understand Jeremy, silently. And he wasn’t sure if the vibe he got was ‘gay’ but he was certainly going to hope. 

 

“Jer, how much did you drink?” Christine sounded simultaneously scolding and amused, like she wanted to be upset, but she was too busy trying not to giggle. 

 

“Jus’ one beer.” One amazing beer. He should have another. He was twirling a strand of Christine’s hair around his finger, staring at it like it was the most amazing thing in the world.

 

“You’re the most ridiculous person ever.” And now Christine was grinning at him, her little slightly crooked front teeth from when Rich had the great idea of taking her roller blading showing. The girl was skilled on her feet, just not on wheels.

 

Jeremy grinned for a second, before he caught sight of Spencer picking his way through the crowd. He seemed to be dressed in an oddly convincing Neo costume from the Matrix. He looked as cool and collected as ever, even as a drunk freshman crashed into him. 

 

“Jer, you sure you’re okay? You look pale.” Christine asked concernedly, but Jeremy only gave her a small smile and nodded. He could stick it out. 

 

“He’s just a lightweight.” Brooke teased. For someone as small as she was, she could hold her alcohol well. 

 

For some reason, in his drunk brain, Jeremy took offense to that. “I am not!” He protested. Then Spencer was hovering over him and sitting next to him, and he felt like ants were crawling up his shoulder. 

 

“I don’t think your parents are gonna like seeing you drunk, Jeremy.” Rich said, and something in his tone brought Jeremy’s good mood to an all time low. Right, his mother.

 

“You’d be surprised. They let Es pierce her ears like, a million times.” He tried change the subject.

 

“Esther is so cool.” Brooke commented, giving him a grin. Right, she didn’t know about Jeremy’s mom. 

 

“I’m, like, ten times cooler than Esther.” Jeremy commented with a huff. 

 

“You are more chill than her.” Spencer commented, and Jeremy could feel his stomach turn. No, that was not what he needed today.

 

Jeremy shot to his feet. “On, uh, second thought, I feel kinda sick.” He blurted out. He half-regretted the beer. But before his friends could protest, he made a beeline for the door. He headed up the stairs, trying to find an empty room to calm down in. 

 

He stumbled a bit, before pulling open a door. Bad mistake. Jeremy came face to face with a surprised couple. Jake Dillinger, making out with Chloe Valentine. It wasn’t a surprise, so why did he feel like crying? He stammered out an apology, going to shut himself in a bathroom. God, could this night get any worse? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heya so here’s chapter six on time!! my show went well if anyone cares and i still have another one tonight. 
> 
> anyways, if you liked, please comment. (ew i sound like a youtuber) but seriously please comment i crave validation.
> 
> stay safe, and stay wonderful, loves!
> 
> ~percy


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brooke and Jeremy bonding, and some insight into his shitty mother

Jeremy wasn’t sure how he found himself back at Rich’s place, driving him and Brooke home. It was silent, but not a Rich silent. Rich silences were easier, because they never tried to pry. It felt totally normal. But Brooke silences made him want to say something, to impress her. He would have turned music on, if she hadn’t been there. 

 

As it was, he was kind of reminded of those zombie apocalypse stories. The ones he had made elaborate plans of survival for. With the silence, and the TPed trees, and the evidence of little kids trick-or-treating, it felt like him and Brooke were the last ones. A sexy dog and a gay dementor. That didn’t bode well for humanity’s survival rates. 

 

Then Brooke broke the silence, and Jeremy almost wished she hadn’t. “So Spencer talked to me after you disappeared.” 

 

His knuckles turned white on the steering wheel, and he fought to keep his voice steady. “Oh, uh, did he?” Did Spencer tell Brooke his secret? Did he out him to the whole school? Why were his palms so sweaty? 

 

“Yeah, and… I don’t know. He kept bringing up homecoming.” 

 

Jeremy felt something in him unknot, like he’d been tied up in tight square knots. “Did he ask you?”

 

“I think he was trying to?” Brooke commented, her feet perched on the dashboard. Jeremy internally cursed Spencer Quidley. Could the guy be any more of a creep? To one of the sweetest girls in Middleborough, of all people. 

 

“I’m, uh. Guessing he didn’t get anywhere with that.”

 

“He’s a really nice guy.” Jeremy had to resist the urge to snort.

 

“Yep.”

 

“But I’m already going with someone else. Ty Allen. He asked me two weeks ago in French.”

 

Jeremy blinked, turning on his turn signal. “I didn’t, uh, was I supposed to know that?”

 

“Sorry, was I supposed to announce it on the Tumblr?” She said with a grin. “But, uh. If you could mention that to Spencer… that’d be great. You’re friends with him, right? I just… I’d really rather him not ask me. So I don’t have to shut him down, yknow?”

 

Jeremy pursed his lips. “I’ll… I’ll see.” Great, let’s talk to the fucking Tic Tac man. 

 

“What about you? Are you still, yknow, boycotting or whatever?” 

 

“Yeah.” Rich, Christine and Jeremy had the idea that homecoming just sucked in general, and they skipped to blast musical soundtracks and play video games.

 

“Y’know, you could ask Christine.”

 

Well, that was out of the blue. Jeremy could feel Brooke’s eyes on him, and he felt like she could see through his robe and his skin, right to his heart.

 

“You think I like Christine.”

 

“I mean- you looked adorable together tonight.” Brooke’s voice held a sort of smug smile in it, like she was trying not to grin at Jeremy. 

 

“I…”  _ Hey, Brooke, I don’t swing that way. Get it? I’m gay. GAY. I like dudes. And dick. I’m a homosexual. Gaaaaayyyyyyy.  _ He’d rather not see her reaction right now. Not tonight. 

 

“Hey, uh, do you think you’d ever like, be into Spencer?” He blurted out in the most subtle wingman move of the century.

 

He could hear the stifling silence. “Spencer Quidley?” She was quiet for a beat. Two. Three. “Why do you ask?”

 

“I- uh- n-nothing. Never mind. He’s- a decent guy.” And Jeremy was a liar. “I guess.”

 

More silence, before he looked over to see Brooke giving him a small smile. “It’s cute that you guys are friends.”

 

Jeremy had no clue what to say to that. 

 

They finally pulled into his driveway, and they both got out, heading inside. Laura was already standing there, waiting for them, and Jeremy desperately hoped that she couldn’t tell he was drunk. He knew that she probably wouldn’t tell his dad, because after his mother… well, let’s just say Jeremy didn’t want to go down her path. But Laura was trying her best to be the  _ hey kids I’m cool  _ kind of step-mom. And it was odd, but kind of nice.

 

“So, tell me about the party, guys!” She said, obviously trying her best to be motherly to Jeremy. As if she was the one who had raised him for years, and he appreciated it, really, but… what was he supposed to answer?  _ Yeah, great party, good thing Jake got into his parents liquor cabinet.  _

 

Brooke had obviously been prepared, launching into a description of everyone’s costumes, and as she spoke, Jeremy noticed that she was wearing Rich’s flannel from his Jason costume. How had he not noticed that? 

 

Speaking of, Brooke said, “Rich played guitar.” 

 

“Rich is very talented.” 

 

“Oh, I know.” Something in her tone held more than her usual sweetness. “All the girls were swooning over him.” 

 

“That’s why I’ve been trying to get Jeremy to practice guitar again. Esther plays, you know.”

 

Jeremy shot to his feet, his cheeks red. “I’m going to bed.” He could feel his step-mother’s and Brooke’s eyes on him, a little concerned. “B-Brooke, are you good?”

 

Brooke was supposed to sleep on the guest room bed, which was kind of funny, considering Rich had spent almost every sleepover on Jeremy’s bedroom floor. 

 

As soon as Jeremy’s bedroom door closed, he leaned against it heavily. God, his head felt like it was spinning, and his stomach was twisting just enough to be uncomfortable. His cat, Clyde, was already curled on his pillow of honour on the corner of Jeremy’s bed. He tugged his dementor costume over his head, tossing it towards the hamper. It missed, hitting the wall and sliding down. 

 

He fell back into his bed, staring at his ceiling, the glow-in-the-dark stars. Vaguely, in his head, he wondered if this meant he was becoming his mom. If he liked alcohol… no. He wouldn’t be her. He squeezed his eyes shut, before sitting up and grabbing his earbuds. Music would help, right? Drown out the thoughts with something else. 

 

Something familiar, and sad. He scrolled through his songs, searching for the right song. He finally landed on the right thing— Linkin Park. Sue him, his emo phase from seventh grade never quite went away. 

 

His eyes squeezed shut. He wanted to sleep, wanted to slip away, but he still felt awake. It was probably the beer— he, Jeremiah Augustus Heere, had had a beer. Which was honestly wild. Jake and Dustin and all the other soccer guys would probably laugh at him for being so much of a drinking virgin. But they weren’t Jeremy. 

 

He wouldn’t tell his dad. He couldn’t, after all. What kid would tell his dad,  _ hey, I drank a beer, I’m three years from legal age and probably at a higher rate of alcoholism because of my shitty mom, but I did it. _

 

Yeah, no. 

 

And he wouldn’t tell Laura either. She was trying, so hard. He knew how hard she was trying, but trying not to let it show that she was, in fact, trying. Making up for an awful mom was hard, and Jeremy hadn’t made it the easiest for her. 

 

Jeremy might tell Esther. She wouldn’t judge him, he didn’t think, but although there were one or two times they’d sat up late and talked, he didn’t know if she’d care. She’d just look at him with those bright blue eyes and say, “Okay, Miah,” softly, and he knew that would probably be enough. 

 

He was pretty sure she wouldn’t care if he came out as gay, either. Just “Okay, Miah,” and she’d move on. Or hug him. And Laura wouldn’t care, he didn’t think, but she kind of struck him as the kind of mom to go march in a pride parade. He definitely didn’t want her to. He wasn’t sure even he wanted to go to a pride parade. Too many people, all ogling at him, and if he didn’t have a boyfriend, it would just be awkward. He tried to imagine going to pride with Blue— for a moment, he looked like Michael, his soft smile and dark hair. Then he looked like Dustin Kropp, laughing and nudging him, then Jake Dillinger, all frosted tips and even teeth. 

 

His dad was the stickler. He knew he wouldn’t disown him or anything. But he knew that his dad joked, or maybe not, about gay people. He’d never said anything too bad about them, but still.

 

Besides, he wished he didn’t even have to come out. That he could just exist, and not change. But every time he did something new— go to a party. Drink a beer. He had to come out to the universe all over again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey sorry this is so late today i was kinda writing an entire research paper lmao. also, this sunday might not happen because my weekend is kinda booked (wow percy has a social life? don’t worry i’m just as surprised.)
> 
> but anyways!! thanks for reading, please comment, blah blah blah i’m tired
> 
> do people even read these? i doubt it.
> 
> stay safe and stay wonderful loves!!
> 
> ~percy


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> more emails, references to sex, and reese’s peanut butter cups

FROM:  bluegreen118@gmail.com

TO:  weak.and.idle.apocalypse@gmail.com

DATE: Nov 1 at 11:12 AM

SUBJECT: Re: hollow wieners

 

winnie,

 

i hope your (i googled that for you, which one of those your/you’re things to use. i figured you’d appreciate that.) halloween was really dope, and that your mixture of simple and badass succeeded. i just ended up setting out candy, but no one came, so i’m basically obligated to eat the leftover reese’s cups. 

 

also it’s wild that it’s almost homecoming and i’m actually hella excited. football is pretty much the most boring, heterosexual sport ever, but the homecoming game is cool. with the lights and the drums and all the peole. and checking out the cheerleaders, you know me. ;)

 

are you doing anything this weekend? we’re supposed to have suck nice weather. sorry, my bad, dick nice weather.

 

— blue

 

FROM:  weak.and.idle.apocalypse@gmail.com

TO:  bluegreen118@gmail.com

DATE: Nov 1 at 5:30 PM

SUBJECT: Reese’s are better than sex

 

Very funny, Blue. I’m rolling on the floor right now. Comedy genius. 

 

But sorry you didn’t get any trick-or-treaters. Waste of candy. I usually would just stick a bowl out on the front porch, if I wasn’t worried about them taking the whole stash and then peeing in it. Maybe the kids where you are are more civilized. 

 

But really, I wish it was possible to send chocolate over email, because leftover Reese’s sound amazing right now.

 

My Halloween kind of sucked. I’m gonna try not to say too much, but I ended up going to this guy’s party, and the one guy I don’t like was there. It was kinda cool to step out of my comfort zone. (Oh, fuck, I just ruined my chance of convincing you I’m a badass party ninja.)

 

I keep thinking about the idea of alter egos and secret identities. Do you ever feel like you’re locked inside yourself? Like, everyone has an idea of who you are except for you. Does that make any sense? Probably not.

 

Anyways, thanks for reminding me about Spirit Week and homecoming. Monday is Decades Day, right? Are you going to dress up? (I know you won’t answer that. Which is fine. I’m kidding. Sorry. I’ll just check the school website so I don’t make a fool out of myself.) But of course you’re going to be looking at the cheerleaders on Friday. All about the ladies, Blue, both of us.

 

—— Winnie

 

FROM: bluegreen118@gmail.com

TO:  weak.and.idle.apocalypse@gmail.com

DATE: Nov 2 at 1:43 PM

SUBJECT: Re: Reese’s are better than sex

 

reese’s are better than sex? maybe you should stop having heterosexual sex, winnie. maybe we could prove that one wrong.

 

the kids in your neighborhood sound really nice. can’t say piss is a big issue here lmao, maybe next year i’ll take your advice and set out a bowl for the invisible trick-or-treaters. 

 

i kinda feel you with the ‘locked in yourself’ thing. i mean, people kind of always expect things from me and i make myself fit there box, yknow? (is that the right one? i can never tell.) i think i’m afraid or something, which is weird, because i’m not supposed to get afraid. but i’m actually terrified. it makes me feel kinda sick.

 

that’s the reason i don’t want to say anything about spirit week and what i’m wearing, because what if you find out who i am? whatever we’re doing here, i don’t think it works if we know each other’s identities. i mean, i’ve told you things about myself i’ve never actually told anyone before, and the idea that you’re someone who could actually be close to me terrifies me. 

 

i mean, i know you were kidding but i just had to say that. and i have to admit, i’m curious about you a lot, too. 

 

— blue

ps i’m attaching a reese’s to this email, i hope it’s what you meant lmao

 

FROM:  weak.and.idle.apocalypse@gmail.com

TO:  bluegreen118@gmail.com

DATE: Nov 3 at 6:37 PM

SUBJECT: Re: Reese’s are better than sex

 

Blue,

 

I think I made you uncomfortable, and I’m really really really sorry. I’m kind of nosy when I’m interested in someone, it’s always been a problem. I’m so sorry. I also have an issue with apologizing too much. I sound like a broken record, I know, but our emails are super important to me, and I’d probably cry for weeks if I effed this up.

 

I may have given you the wrong idea with this subject line, since TECHNICALLY i don’t know if Reese’s are actually better than sex. Reese’s are incredible though. And I’m guessing they’re better than “intercourse” as my dad calls it. Hetero sex doesn’t sound all that great.

 

Non-hetero sex sounds pretty great, though. Maybe a little better than Reese’s. Jesus fuck, my face is red. Is that weird?

 

Anyways, thank you so much for the picture of a Reese’s cup, it was exactly what I imagined. Because looking at a picture of it’s amazing peanut butter-chocolateyness and IMAGINING it is so much better than actually eating it. I really wanted to torture myself, but couldn’t bother going to Google images myself!

 

I doubt any of our leftover chocolate has lasted this long, otherwise I’d go eat some myself.

 

— Winnie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW OKAY SO THIS WAS NOT SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN  
> IT’S SLOW GOINGS BOIS  
> I’LL GET ON A MORE STEADY UPDATE SCHEDULE SOON  
> LOVE YOU ALL
> 
> stay safe and stay wonderful loves!!
> 
> ~percy

**Author's Note:**

> HEY  
> if you know who’s gonna be end game  
> don’t fucking say it okay  
> no spoilers for those that haven’t read the book
> 
> also this will hopefully be updated weekly!! i have the first three and a half chapters written so
> 
> stay safe and stay wonderful, loves! 
> 
> ~Percy


End file.
